“grydscaen: dark” chapter draft by Natsuya Uesugi. ARC excerpt. © 2018 Natsuya Uesugi.
Wanted to share the first chapter of “grydscaen: dark,” the new dystopian cyberpunk, tech noir thriller I am writing. This is the final version of chapter 1 and I wanted to get any feedback if readers are so inclined. Take a read for free. #hackersunite #hacktillyouredead
Chapter 1: Dot Hack Stock
“Not here. Hide the data till we are off the street. This way,” Toapfyl hurriedly motioned to the data messenger in the blue military coat, dark cargo pants and combat boots who followed him off the sidewalk and down another alley. He was wearing the typical garb for a data messenger which made Toapfyl comfortable when he met the stranger in the alley leaning against the wall, easily identifiable.
Toapfyl, a Level 3 hacker, was wearing maroon jeans and a zippered black hoodie pulled over his ebony half shaved head, exposing a slap of dirty brown dreadlocks gathered in a ponytail at his forehead hiding his right eye.
A prostitute wearing a pink miniskirt and fishnet stockings kissed a businessman in a black suit under a sickly yellow streetlight. Toapfyl and the data messenger were once again shrouded in shadow by the derelict buildings as they passed leaving the two to their pleasure.
Toapfyl pushed in a dilapidated door at the end of the alley, grime from the street creating a dusty haze in the air leaving a putrid stink. They entered a staircase. There was no light as they descended. Toapfyl sparked up his aegis to his hand, the manifestation of his psychic power, and lit a path to the basement.
He pushed in the door onto a dimly lit room and revealed Jester, the leader of the Jester hacker guild sitting in a rickety folding chair in the center of the empty room smoking a cigarette from a long black holder. A soft haze filtered over him from a light fixture dangling precariously from ceiling wires, the glass cover filled with dead moths that had happened their way inside and lived out their final days circling the artificial sun. The wan flickering light cast shadows that danced at the corners, the bulb swinging back and forth, moved by the basement door opening.
Legs crossed, Jester was wearing black patent leather platform boots, a shiny mahogany lace skirt, skintight black denim jeans, and a slick dark vinyl blouse with embroidered crimson roses, He sported an elaborate olive short coat with a high collar and dark cuffs and epaulets. A monocle optical sensor over his right eye, he was wearing a green top hat with a scarlet rose perched at the brim. His pink straight, shoulder length hair shined in the light.
He made an irritated gesture with his hand. “Don’t keep me waiting. Where is it?” Jester took a long drag from the cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. He waved as Toapfyl closed the door.
“Not until I get paid.” The shocked data messenger prompted pulling out a red etched credit sized data card shaking it.
“Do the needful,” ordered Jester raising an eyebrow. He turned his back to them as he continued to smoke his cigarette taking a long drag.
Toapfyl pulled a platinum credit card out of his back pocket. The data messenger pulled his. They locked the two cards at the long end, pins embedded in the technology. Toapfyl typed out the amount of 55,000 credits on the virtual keyboard appearing on the face of his card. The cards chimed signaling the encryption key matched and the credits transferred from Toapfyl’s account.
The data messenger released his card and ran it through a handheld confirming the amount. He nodded stashing the handheld in his chest pocket.
“Done,” responded Toapfyl.
Jester turned back around not witnessing the exchange purposefully and stuck out his hand with his black lacquered fingernails in the knitted fingerless gloves. The stitching was coming apart at the seams on the thumb and index finger, the gloves covered in little white pills. Where everything about Jester’s appearance was immaculate, the gloves gave away an underlying confusion or sloppy disregard for his perfect veneer.
Jester was one of the hacker guild leaders who almost never showed his face in public. It was well known that Jester did not make meetings with data messengers or low level hackers, like a Level 3. He couldn’t be bothered with them. The fact that the data messenger insisted, and that Toapfyl made it happen, kept the data messenger on guard. He placed the red card in Jester’s palm and turned to leave.
Toapfyl jerked raising a gun to the data messenger’s temple. He touched skin. “No one leaves until the data is confirmed.”
Rom, the teenage Level 9 hacker, emerged from the shadows behind Jester. Eyebrow raised, he was annoyed with Toapfyl. Rom pulled a handheld out of his tan trench coat as he came into the dim light. His dull blonde unkempt hair gleamed with a blue streak at the front. He took the data card from Jester and swiped it in the port on the handheld reading the file as the system ran the security check. He typed on the deck triggering an encryption key prompt as the handheld’s computerized female voice spoke the request.
“The data is encrypted? Why didn’t you mention that?” questioned Toapfyl suspicious. He pushed the gun barrel closer taking a step in and made the data messenger move his head back.
“No problem,” interrupted Rom. “Most data messengers are Packrat Runners smuggling data from the City into the Echelons. It should take a Packrat decrypt key. I have access to the Packrats’ archive of one-time, pre-shared obscure keys. What I need for this, right?”
“That is why I wanted Jester at the meet. Toapfyl, all data messengers use encryption. If you don’t know that, you are an idiot. No self-respecting hacker attached to Jester would even ask the question you did just now. Only a Level 9 can penetrate. Jester would know a Level 9. Rom is one of the best in the business,” the data messenger revealed his disgust with Toapfyl and yanked the gun out of his hand pointing it back at the hacker.
Toapfyl blanched confused how he had been disarmed and lowered his eyebrows at the disrespect. Rom shot him an angry glare silencing him.
Jester smirked giving Rom permission to engage and waved the data messenger off. The messenger lowered the gun handing it back to Toapfyl.
“You asked me here which is risky. You didn’t know if I, Jester, the leader of the Jester hacker guild would come. There are consequences for making me do things I don’t want to. I have the Black Holes take you out and you cease to breathe. They will cut you up into little pieces and sell your organs on the black market. I respect your boldness. I, too, am a Level 9 hacker, but this particular job is beneath me. Rom can handle it.”
Jester slapped his boots on the floor arousing a cloud of dust making a point. He hesitated for a moment tugging on a lock of his pink hair and twirling it around his finger. He continued twirling for a few seconds.
“Messenger! I respect your data. You will be right with me.”
Rom cringed at Jester’s response, not ready for it. He blinked twice hard going back to the handheld.
Jester had a reputation of being insane. Few had seen him talking to himself wandering the streets at night. Some afternoons he paraded around in his elaborate gothic aristocrat outfits picking up young male hosts in front of The Hole X-rated magazine shop and performing deviant sadomasochistic sex acts with them in cheap hotels. Rom worried Jester could snap at any time.
There had been a few hackers Jester had killed who crossed him when he was in one of his blue schizophrenic moods, which were well known and happened randomly. Rom watched Jester closely out of the corner of his eye making sure this was not one of those times.
Jester tipped his hat and winked at the data messenger then sneered at Toapfyl putting him in his place.
“It’s genuine. No trace back. Data is clean,” Rom impressed handing the handheld to Jester after decrypting the file.
“You can go. Don’t tell anyone you saw me. You squeal, I take your head off!” warned Jester with a crazed wink pointing the cigarette.
Toapfyl opened the basement door and motioned the data messenger out accompanying him up the stairs leaving Jester in the room with Rom.
****
“So, tell me?” inquired Jester chuckling, giddy with excitement.
Rom sat down in the chair as Jester leaned against the wall and handed back the handheld.
Rom interrogated the handheld. “The government is about to repeal a critical stock market regulatory legislation. The majority party pushed the law through at the last minute defying the Emperor who insisted he would veto. The lobbyists tied the Emperor’s hands. They are voting on the proposal today. If we get ahead of the vote we can influence the market.” He scrolled the screen as Toapfyl came back in the room.
“Insider trading my arse. Your little tip worked,” smirked Jester tapping his right foot on the floor with his arms crossed and beamed at Toapfyl.
“My script is ready. I sent the code to Rom earlier,” said Toapfyl.
“I have the file. I optimized the code. It was a little script kiddie, pieced together. I cleaned it up and compiled it to execute faster. Put my Level 9 on it,” mocked Rom.
Toapfyl sneered trying to hide his irritation. “I can tank the markets on command and the investors will dump SenseNet stock after I run up iodine pills. Give the word.”
“Get it done!” ordered Jester taking a drag off the cigarette and ashing gracefully with a tap. He glared at Toapfyl, bared his teeth and smirked a warning. He saluted playfully, then disappeared teleporting away.
****
Toapfyl looked at Rom with a confused frown.
“Don’t look at me. Jester is the leader of the hacker guild. You do what he says. I am just the messenger,” responded Rom getting up from the chair.
“Will start once I get back to my squat right around the corner.”
“You live near here? This is a dump.”
“Better than the Shizuoko ghetto or The Maze with its radiation,” answered Toapfyl.
“Whatever works. No trace back. You are wired. I got my hands so far up in your system you can’t blink or shit without me knowing. Don’t screw up!” barked Rom pulling the cord on the light overhead and bathing the room in darkness. He vanished teleporting away.
“So little faith,” scowled Toapfyl concealing the gun in his pocket. He opened the basement door ascending the stairs back into the early morning dark.
****
Raven was in the Psi Faction server room. He stared at the big board. It monitored all the systems on the gridscan: the Corporation, the SenseNet, the power grid, municipal water supply, commuter traffic, streetlights, and the government. He watched the green and yellow lights flash rhythmically monitoring system relays, transmitting everything was working as desired.
A red light appeared on terminal seven all of a sudden on the left-most screen. The system beeped an error. There was a technician at the computer in the middle of the room monitoring the board. Raven shuffled over quickly and looked over the tech’s shoulder.
“What we got?” asked Raven brushing his hand over the technician’s arm and leaning in. He pushed the tech’s hands off the keyboard and went in himself pulling up the logs.
“Seems someone is in the stock market,” said the tech nervous scooting his chair back to give Raven room.
“Bring it up,” ordered Raven pulling over a chair and sitting down at the next computer as the tech engaged the screen display. The computer churned to life and the monitor came up with the traffic configuration and live data from terminal seven.
A cascade began as the green and yellow monitoring blips all started to turn red. Raven watched on as system errors displayed vigorously and alarms went off on the big board. The entire board flashed red. The heads up display at the side of the room lit up and Gailen, the operational leader of the Psi Faction came on the screen.
“What!” Gailen barked, having been notified when the system alerted an aberration.
“Someone is in the stock market,” shouted Raven over the alarms.
“Give me details…”
“They are running up iodine pills for radiation sickness. That is a domestic staple. The market rides on iodine pills taking its direction. A gyration in iodine, the market spooks. The price is fluctuating wildly. It happened in seconds.”
“What does that mean? Make it clear,” Jai, the lead guard, blurted out irritated at the subtlety. He was standing next to Gailen in the Ops Room, visible over the screen.
“There is a massive sell off going on. The market is tanking. Let me see if I can pinpoint the infiltration,” yelled Raven over the alarms and slid his chair quickly over to the far terminal. He immediately logged in trying to counter. The monitors went wild as other terminals responded and infrastructure was affected. The stock market had a ripple effect on the entire gridscan.
Raven typed energetically trying to counter.
The tech growled. It was moving too fast. He slammed his hands down on the keyboard. “I can’t stop it. We are in full cascade. The market just lost 8000 points in seconds.”
“Raven do something!” cried Gailen as his phone rang and other phones in the Ops Room started going off including the Zone Police red phone. Jai raced over to the red phone at the wall and took the call.
“Trying!” called Raven and kept typing. He pinpointed the entry that was influencing the sell off.
“What is happening?”
“Almost there…” Raven spoke up, his fingers flying across the keys. He put up multiple counter measures and triggered the stopgap in the stock market systems.
Zoon, the leader of the Psi Faction came into the Ops Room and walked up to Gailen. She pointed at him as the tech in front of the big board watched on, her body language harsh. She screamed over the alarms from the heads up display.
“Got you!” cried Raven and continued typing. He hit the Command key and suddenly all the red lights on the big board once more turned green as he took control of the system. The sell off terminated as the stopgap for the stock market kicked in and leveled out the irregularity. The market stabilized, the aggressive selling halted.
Raven leaned back in the chair and put his hands behind his head pleased with himself as the alarms ceased and the big board flashed ‘All Clear.’
“What was it?” asked Gailen as Zoon left the Ops Room and he reengaged.
“Let me bring it up on screen,” Raven confirmed and slid his chair over to the middle terminal again, wheels squeaking on the concrete floor. He took over the monitor for the Ops Room and a hacker profile displayed on the screen.
“Who is Toapfyl?” asked Gailen reading the data over the heads up display.
“He is your hacker in the stock market. We clocked him, IP address and all,” said the tech answering for Raven as he zoomed in on the data set enlarging the image of Topyfyl’s face.
“That is probably not his IP or his signature. He must be masked somewhere, relaying off multiple satellites and cycling so we can’t trace him. I doubt he would let us find him that easily,” insisted Raven interrupting the tech.
“But the system found it?” replied the tech, confident in the data.
“This is a hacker. He just tanked the market. The system is not always accurate. Even a teenager can mask his signature,” corrected Raven.
“Get in my office. Now!” ordered Gailen.
“Be right there,” Raven jumped at the order. He patted the tech on the shoulder reassuring him and left for the Ops Room.
****
Jester reappeared on the sidewalk in front of a liquor store having teleported from the meet with Toapfyl. He brushed off his thighs, the debris from the basement and the radioactive particles in the air soiling his clothes, coating them with sticky grey dust. He pulled a small gilded pill case out of his pocket and opened it taking out two iodine pills. He swallowed them hoping to stave off the effects of the radiation, a necessity people in the Echelons had to take three times daily to not succumb to radiation sickness.
The sickness was pervasive claiming hundreds each day. The Echelons were not like the City where there was a cure for radiation sickness. Those in the Echelons who would never have the opportunity for a cit card had to fend for themselves where life was riddled with crime, addiction, starvation, poverty, and premature death.
Jester sauntered through the entrance to the Jet Jockey Underground, a former parking garage now used as the virtual reality cyber headquarters for Jazz, the lead hacker of the Jazz hacker guild. Jazz ran a team of blackhat hackers who regularly attacked the Corporation and government interests. He didn’t often partner with Jester, but the two knew each other intimately, running the same game just with different targets.
The virtual underground called ‘The Soul Deep’ resided on basement Level Four in the garage. It housed psi synch devices jet jockeys used to navigate the gridscan in the virtual reality view. The upper three underground levels entertained game addicts where Wraith the drug dealer ruled, selling psi inducer drugs to keep the subculture going. Jazz and Wraith ran close, keeping each other in the know about what went down on the streets of the Echelons.
Jester smoked his cigarette as he walked, taking in the scene down the ramp. He licked his lips touching them with his index finger and flicked the end of the finished fag. The cigarette butt fell to the floor. He ground it under his shoe as he cached the cigarette holder in his back pocket.
He stepped onto the underground platform looking up at The Soul Deep sign spray painted on the wall and walked through the middle of the floor, surrounded by jet jockeys sitting in psi synch devices. The closest jock, a female was wearing red shorts, black stockings, sixteen-eye russet combat boots, and a red and white paint splattered tank top with black suspenders. She flicked her long multi-coloured hair over her shoulder, shaved on the right and moved her hands in front of her face directing the virtual reality projection around the chair as she hacked the gridscan.
Jester took in the surreal scene and walked to the side, activity at the back subtle, different than the jerking movements of the lower level jocks lining the front. He saw Rom in his tan trench coat sitting in the lead psi synch device, at the back. Rom was in the ‘chair of reckoning’ that Jazz only let the best jet jockeys use.
Jester winked at Rom and walked past to where Jazz was hiding behind an elaborate set of decks with seven monitors wired in. There were five keyboards at different levels in front of Jazz, his hands on two of them duct taped to a pole in a triangle layout. He hit a few keys on the left deck and then typed out quickly with both hands on the right. The monitors and keyboards were suspended in front of Jazz by steel poles creating a virtual reality jock rig known to be one of the best jet jockey trailing configurations in the business. Jazz didn’t look up as Jester passed behind him and came to stand at his left shoulder.
****
Jazz pulled a red lollipop out of his mouth and pointed it at Rom. “You square?”
“Give it a minute,” Rom answered. He took a pair of round glass goggles with black metal rims out of his pocket. He pulled the goggles over his forehead resting in his hair.
“What is with the goggles?” whispered Jester causing Jazz to glance over his shoulder and acknowledge him.
“Ambiance,” chuckled Rom and settled in putting his right palm on the navigation device on the armrest of the chair, a numeric keypad with a small joystick he could maneuver with his thumb.
“Hit me!” Rom shouted ready.
Jazz nodded configuring the environment on the jock rig. He looked at Jester. “We set?”
“You don’t need my permission. This is your Soul Deep,” mocked Jester knowing Jazz was just humoring him in front of the lower jocks, keeping up appearances. Jester pulled the cigarette holder out of his back pocket and opened a pack. He inserted a cigarette in the holder, lit it with a grey flip top lighter, and took a deep drag ready to watch. He tipped his head in agreement.
Jazz raised his index finger of his right hand high above his head in an overstated gesture that made Jester smirk. He plunged his hand down hitting the Command key hard, the session kicking off.
“Fly Rom!” Jazz breathed out and the psi synch device gridscan session started.
A hollow spherical virtual reality projection of server daemons, databases, network conduits, data sets, and IO channels appeared over the chair Rom was sitting in. He wiggled in his seat adjusting and raised his left hand in front of him, fingers splayed.
“Lets see Decharge and Toulouse,” called out Rom giving the first command as the gridscan view changed, taking his actions to influence the display.
Jazz responded and typed out ‘Decharge and Toulouse’ on his trailing deck; the name of the largest brokerage house in the City. Their high volume traders virtually controlled the stock market giving it direction, making moves that could sway the entire portfolio of stocks, bonds, swaps and options.
“Get me Sanderson Steppenfold,” commanded Rom, flicking his wrist and a new view came up. The words ‘Decharge and Toulouse’ from a sign on the side of a virtual building displayed.
“You got it?” asked Jazz over his shoulder as he continued typing.
Jester stuck the cigarette holder in his mouth and engaged another keyboard after touching the screen on a monitor to the left and it responded to him. He typed in ‘Sanderson Steppenfold’ and the data appeared on the screen pulling contact information for a trader desk phone at Decharge and Toulouse. The hacker configured jock rig had fingers in every single system, backdoor and illegal search engine including the illicit web that was available. Anything you wanted, the rig could deliver. Jester picked up the old school black handset in the rig and dialed the number displayed on the monitor. The call bounced off various relays and towers, unable to be traced.
“May I speak with Sanderson Steppenfold? This is Janice Howard, Associate Financial Consultant to the Senior Vice President for the Central Bank of the Echelons,” whined Jester into the phone in a phony high-pitched voice. He waited for a moment and then seconds later Steppenfold was on the phone.
“Sell shares of SenseNet stock and iodine pills,” called out Rom relaying the command to Jester after a second who repeated the statement into the phone. Rom thrust his arm out to the right and wiggled his fingers running up on the stock market. He looked around in the view and then clapped his hands together revealing an elaborate door with a frame, a possible entry point to the stock market.
Rom flicked his fingers and blasted through the stock market systems, the virtual reality view changing around the chair. He had already been in at a lower layer, the system did not notice when he punched up security levels, masked.
He accessed one of the security cameras on the stock market floor. A picture of traders in colourful jackets displayed with a big board in front of them, the day’s numbers displayed and computer terminals at the side of the room with runners rushing about. There was a cadre of traders circled around the board waving pieces of paper and making trades, the activity frantic. The monitor on the wall showed the action.
A trader separated from the melee and pulled a pencil from behind his ear in his bright green and white striped jacket. He turned his back to the camera as he wrote on the paper in his hand and Jester could see the words ‘Decharge and Toulouse’ on the back at his shoulders. He put the pencil between his teeth and then made a group of fast hand gestures towards the side of the room where the terminals were, runners looking on.
Jester heard Steppenfold ask a question. “How much? Call, Hold, Put?”
“Call. Sell the entire portfolio,” responded Jester.
A runner rushed over from the side terminals on the trading floor to the Decharge and Toulouse trader on screen. The trader pulled the piece of paper off his pad he had just written, replaced the pencil behind his ear, and pushed into the fray once more waving his hand above his head. The SenseNet ticker on the big board changed seconds later. The sell went through.
Jester looked over at the TV monitor on the side of the wall in the underground and saw the Newsfeed stock market ticker on the bottom of the screen flash the price of SenseNet iodine pills. The price jumped as the ticker changed.
“Run it down!” called out Jazz and terminated the stopgap, releasing the stock market system so it could no longer counteract irregularities.
Jester hung up the phone and put hands on hips watching as Rom continued to influence the stock market.
The price of SenseNet iodine pills soared fluctuating drastically. Jester took a step out from behind the rig as Rom continued his attack. Jester went to stand under the TV on the wall and watched the market price on the ticker. The Newsfeed put up a full screen picture of SenseNet stock and the price of iodine pills. The display highlighted the instantaneous changes.
An alarm went off on the jock rig.
“Turn that off!” Jester shouted annoyed at the blaring siren. The jock rig warned the stopgap reengaged on the stock market systems.
“Not today!” called out Rom and brought his hands up in front of him. A keyboard virtual display appeared in front of his eyes as a retractable arm raised and moved it from the side of the chair. He forced new code into the stopgap computers and typed on a virtual keyboard. He pounded on the glass, keys clacking on the projection. His actions loaded the script and crippled the stock market control system. The stopgap failed to execute sending the market plunging. Another sell off started.
Jazz set the automatic remote control leaving the jock rig after waving over a tech to continue monitoring the infiltration. He walked over to Jester and put a hand on his shoulder. Jester cringed wiggling away and took a step back.
“I forgot that about you. Don’t touch…” Jazz corrected himself nodding in apology.
Rom clapped his hands together as he disengaged the chair and stood up, the virtual reality projection falling away. “It is just a matter of time. This will send the economy into freefall.”
****
“Tell the Terror Hack they can make a run on selling water. They will make a killing,” remarked Jester over his shoulder.
Jazz walked to the back of the room and engaged a camera sitting down in the seat in front of the terminal to contact the Terror Hack. They used older analogue technology that was hard to infiltrate. The camera was on a tripod behind the monitor facing the chair.
The red light on top the antiquated camera came on as Jazz settled in the seat and spoke. “Nuns to church in garters and high heels…”
The Terror Hack logo flashed over the monitor a few seconds after the white noise dissipated.
“Priests drunk behind the rectory,” responded a voice giving the corresponding response. Mage, the leader of The Terror Hack appeared on the screen.
Jester walked into the shot waving to Mage who sat down. His hacker coordinator Stair hovered behind his shoulder on the screen.
“Nice to see you, Jester. Not often you see the light of day,” questioned Mage stunned Jester was out as he saw him in the frame.
“The radioactive fallout was high today. Made me want to go outside and enhance my fiercely handsome glow,” smirked Jester ironically, making reference to the nuclear fallout. He disengaged a second later.
“As long as there are no teenage boys in the mushroom cloud we should be safe,” Mage laughed revealing Jester’s weakness and then started in with Jazz. “What you got?”
“Ran the stock market. Its in freefall. Seen the board lately?” responded Jazz in the chair in front of the monitor looking at Mage on screen.
Stair engaged his handheld and showed the screen to Mage who took it and looked at the market data.
“Interesting? The stock market plunged 20% in the last six minutes and still on a downward spiral. How has this affected iodine pills and water?” asked Mage.
“I had the Sanitation Department dump sewage into the water reserve just now before I left the gridscan session,” chimed in Rom coming into view so he could see Mage.
“Jazz, did you sanction that?” frowned Mage.
“Rom was the jock in the lead. I didn’t give him direction. You can ask Jester,” replied Jazz.
“Don’t care,” shot back Jester engaged with the female jet jockey from before having heard his name. He teetered precariously on one leg leaning over and flirting with the beautiful youth stroking her colourful long hair.
“The water is yours. You have a monopoly on the market. You can sell again. The Parliament voted on water legislation yesterday pulling the Echelons’ reserves out of the City’s purview. The Echelons is on their own,” stated Jazz.
“Got it. My hackers will be pleased to hear that. We have clean water free of radiation stockpiled. We can start selling in the Echelons immediately,” responded Mage.
“The Zone Police will try to cut you off,” responded Rom, his voice raising skeptical, a subtle warning.
“Not a chance. They have to find me first,” dismissed Mage on the screen.
“The market is yours, iodine pills and water,” replied Jazz.
“On it. I’m out,” said Mage and stood up from the chair. The camera disengaged, the monitor screen going to white noise. The conversation ended.
“I’m out as well,” remarked Jester coming back over to Rom who stepped away from the camera. “You coming back to the guild with me?”
“Nope, Packrats up my arse. I have to get back to the Packrat Sprawl or Faid won’t let me out again for a long while.”
“I forgot, you are on a very short leash,” chimed in Jazz.
“Yes, I am. Got to stay away from the Zone Police,’ waved Rom and then teleported out.
– End Chapter 1 –